Writers Unbound

You can approach the act of writing with nervousness, excitement, hopefulness, or even despair, the sense that you can never completely put on the page what’s in your mind and heart. You can come to the act with your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed, ready to kick ass and take down names. You can come to it because you want a girl to marry you or because you want to change the world. Come to it any way but lightly. Let me say it again: you must not come lightly to the blank page.” - Stephen King

Why are there so many websites for freelance writers? Have you noticed? Job hunting sites, resource sites, sites to post your work and get a critique, sites to compare various freelance employers, sites that whine about how difficult it is to write, sites that proclaim the continual joy of writing, and a mass of blogs by writers, about writers, for writers, through writers, with writers, and between writers. (Yes, including this one.)

Many writing sites are there to gain profit through the ad revenue generated. I have no problem with that, I just think it’s interesting that we, the ones who are supposed to be writing, can create enough traffic and ad clicks to support all these websites. Writers are notorious for avoiding the act of writing.I know I waste more time reading about writing, thinking about writing, researching writing, and looking for writing jobs than I spend actually writing.

Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead. - Gene Fowler

I have a theory that if I reduced the time I now spend on researching, reading, connecting, marketing, and finding jobs to about 20% and used that other 80% for actual writing, I would be more successful.
(Remember my definition of success: “Success as a writer is when I, through my writing, reach people and make money.”) My theory is unpolished, I admit, and I don’t even really like it. Why? Because I love reading about writing, thinking about writing, researching writing, and looking for writing jobs. Writing itself? Writing and I have kind of a love-hate relationship. Or maybe it is a codependent relationship. I think I will start an organization called Writers Anonymous, a safe place for those of us abused by but unable to leave the Writing Urge.

Love it or hate it, I’m going to test this writing success theory. My normal schedule is, on the ideal day, 4 to 5 hours of work time, 5 days a week. Not every day is ideal. I have two children under two, a hairy mammoth masquerading as a dog, a spontaneous husband, and about, oh, two dozen other regular obligations. It’s like every writer’s life: packed full and wouldn’t have it any other way.

The last few days, as I’ve been thinking over this theory, I’ve noticed a pattern in my work time. I write two posts every morning (Hour 1 of work time): one on this blog and one my other blog. Then it’s time to get kids up, breakfast, laundry, ad infinitum. When I get the kids down for morning nap, I spend time writing on my longer projects (Hours 2 and 3 of work time). However, I usually only push myself for about an hour, and then I piddle around for about an hour. Hours 4 and 5 of work time occur in the afternoon. I tend to realize I haven’t actually produced much, so I push myself through an article of some kind, something shorter that I can complete. I feel so accomplished when I’ve finished one of those that I piddle away the remaining time until it’s time to get the kids up, start dinner, etc.

Out of a potential 5 hours of actual writing, probably 3 go to things other than writing. Related to writing, yes, but not actual writing. So. Let’s reduce that 3 hours (180 minutes) to 20%, which means 36 minutes. The rest should go to writing. If the rest does go to writing… hmm. I might become prolific, after all.